Stripped Bare
by smacky30
Summary: Set after Sara's rescue.  No Spoilers.  Just a big gooey pile of Smut & Angst & Fluff!  Give it a try  you know you wanna!


A/N: Many, many thanks to the fantabulous Cropper and Mingsmommy. Without them this would be a bunch of junk on my hard drive.

Disclaimer: Not mine. Never will be

**Stripped Bare**

The numbers on the alarm clock glowed brilliant red, puncturing the darkness of the room. The seconds were marked by the blinking colon that separated the hours from the minutes. Sara mentally counted each one as she watched the numbers advance, slowly whittling away the time until she no longer had to feign sleep.

Grissom's arm was flung across her stomach, his right hand curled possessively over her left hip. His breath, warm and steady, puffed against her bare shoulder. She could hear the creaks and groans of the house as it expanded in the hot midday sun. She found comfort in the quiet of the neighborhood, thankful that most of their neighbors were at work and their children in school.

Slowly, against her will, her eyelids began to droop. Time after time she jerked herself awake, fighting the inevitable. And time after time, her eyes slid closed, helpless against her body's demand for rest. Her last conscious thought was of the time…three seventeen.

_It's the same room, it's always the same room...none she knows from her waking life, but one she knows well in this here and now...she can feel her heart rate increase at the sight of the gray concrete walls. __Water. There is water all around. It is rising, slowly, relentlessly. She hears a steady plop…plop…plop that reminds her of a leaky faucet. But the rise of the water is much faster than can be explained by a mere drip. As she has come to expect, she is standing in the center of the space, unable to move anything other than her head. She isn't tied down or shackled. She is just incapable of movement. Vaguely, she remembers the shock of the taser and how it turned her muscles to jelly, rendering her helpless. No control, no power over her body…this feeling is its twin even though her rational mind tells her she would be unable to stand if it were true. Nothing makes sense in this world and apparently nothing has to. _

_The water is at her waist and still she doesn't move. It is cold and her hands, feet and legs are beginning to ache at the loss of blood flow as her body struggles to keep her organs alive. This isn't real. It's just a dream, just a dream. But the sensations are so very real she begins to doubt what her mind is telling her. With a strong sense of déjà vu, she turns her head until she can see the window that is high on the wall to her right. It's the only entrance to her prison and, just as she knew he would be, Grissom is there watching her. Tears are streaming down his cheeks but he makes no move to get in. Actually, he seems to be preventing the others from breaking the glass to save her. She watches silently as he struggles against Nick and Warrick, Greg and Brass, even Catherine. _

_The water is up to her chin now and she knows it will soon engulf her. She feels the kick of adrenaline that comes with the realization that she's running out of time, out of air. Still she doesn't move, can't move. Now her brain is screaming at her useless limbs in a vain attempt to spur them into action. But nothing seems to be listening. The level of the frigid water has covered her lips and she tilts her head back to keep it out of her nose and mouth. Her ears are now under the surface and she hears a roaring that she soon realizes is the blood rushing through her body. _

_Her heart is hammering. Fear has her firmly in its oily grasp. She is no longer rational. This is no longer a dream; it has become a fight for her life. She takes a gulp of air, choking a little as water trickles in with it. Sputtering and spitting, Sara takes in one final breath through her nose before she is completely covered. _

_Her lungs are burning. Her entire body is on fire as all of her cells beg for oxygen. She knows she has to hold on. She knows that breathing in will kill her. But right now, in this moment, not breathing in is killing her too. She turns her head frantically left and right, looking for something that just isn't there. No one is coming to save her. She sees Grissom still staring through the window, still crying piteously but making no attempt to help her. Finally, when she is sure that her lungs will burst from the need to breathe, she opens her mouth and…._

The strangled gasp that emanated from Sara was the same one Grissom had been awakened by almost every day for the past six months. The feel of her body shaking while she gulped in air was the same every time. The look of confusion and fear on her face before she realized it was just a dream never changed. As he had done time and time again, Grissom pulled her close, whispering words of comfort. Sara flung off Grissom's arms and sat up, swinging her legs off the bed. Biting back a sigh of frustration, he moved to sit beside her and ran a hand soothingly down her back. Once again, she shrugged off his touch.

"Don't touch me," she snapped as she stood and moved away from him. She slammed the bathroom door, cutting off any reply.

Grissom released the breath he had been holding and his shoulders sagged under the weight of confusion and pain. He had been trying desperately to keep Sara's world as normal as possible but it seemed that the harder he tried the worse things became. Neither of them was the same person they had been before. And he didn't know how to deal with what they had become.

Ten minutes later, when she came out of the bathroom, Grissom was sitting up in bed. His face was stoic but his eyes were wary. With a tight smile and a slight shrug, Sara headed out of the bedroom ignoring Grissom when he called her name. He found her in the kitchen making coffee.

"Sara?" His voice was quiet, tentative and her back stiffened in response.

Sara flipped the switch on the coffee pot and turned to face him. Weariness and something he couldn't quite define were etched on her face. "Gris, I'm sorry."

"For what? You haven't done anything." He couldn't meet her gaze and she knew the lie for what it was.

A bright flash of anger flooded her body. "Dammit, Grissom, stop it!" she yelled. "Stop treating me like I'm some sort of doll that will break if you aren't careful!"

The moment the words were out of her mouth they both realized the irony of the statement. Even now, six months after the rescue, Natalie Davis was like an unwanted, unwelcome presence in their home. And they both wondered if there would ever come a time when she wasn't with them.

Running a trembling hand through his hair, Grissom said, "I don't treat you like a…like that." His voice was calm but held a hint of steel, a sure sign that his temper was rising.

Sara wrapped her arms around herself protectively. "Yes you do." Grissom opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off, her hand coming up to slash at the air in a gesture for him to be quiet. "I'm afraid of…of _everything_ and you let me be. I can't even take a fucking shower without you sitting in the bathroom with me. And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

Grissom recoiled at the fury in her voice. Then his eyes flared and he let the anger filling the room flow through him. It was a torrent of rage that washed away the worry and fear, snapping his tenuous hold on his emotions, leaving raw emotion in its wake. "What do you want from me, Sara?!" His voice was deceptively soft but there was a hiss of bitterness underscoring every word. "I'm trying to give you what you need and you keep throwing it back in my face! Tell me what to do!"

The distance separating them suddenly seemed much larger than the width of the kitchen. An ocean of unexpressed feeling separated them, wider than they had ever tried to bridge. The months of repressed anger and fear, the lack of sleep, the desire to reclaim her life all came pouring out.

"I need you to stop coddling me! I won't break. I won't disappear." Sara's words ended on a choked sob.

Grissom's hands clenched at his sides. Every fiber of his being wanted to reach out and pull her into his arms. Instead he closed his eyes, drew in a deep breath and said, "I don't know how to stop. I almost lost you." His voice trembled. "Don't you get it, Sara? You could have died."

"Sometimes I think I did." Sara's voice was a whisper and she looked at him with tear filled eyes. "Sometimes I wish I had."

He crossed the room in three long strides and stopped with his face inches from hers. "Don't say that! Don't you ever say that!" She flinched at the force of his words. "You don't know what we…what _I_ went through while you were gone."

"Then tell me, Grissom. I want to know!" Sara scrubbed her hands over her face, roughly wiping away the tears that were falling.

Turning away from her, he ran a hand over his mouth. "It's not important now."

Sara grabbed his arm and tugged until he turned to face her again. "It _is _important. Don't you see?" When he would have denied it she continued, "You've built this box around me and nothing gets in or out, not even you. I don't want to live in a box. I want to feel things again. I want to not be afraid. I want my life back."

He reached out and his hand hovered over her arm for a moment before dropping listlessly by his side. "I'm so afraid I'll do something wrong that I don't know what to do. I don't know how to fix this."

Sara's voice was barely a whisper, a mere sigh. "I want you to touch me. You never touch me, Gil."

Confusion was etched on Grissom's face. "I do touch you. Or don't you remember telling me NOT to touch you just a few minutes ago?"

Sara wondered if he was being deliberately obtuse and the thought kicked her ire up another notch. She moved closer until only a couple of inches separated them. "No, Grissom," she ground out, "I want you to help me feel again. I want you to feel again. Because neither of us has felt anything since…," her words trailed off and she gestured helplessly. Her voice broke when she continued, "I want you to _touch _me."

He knew that she was talking about more than physically touching her. She wanted to re-establish the connection they'd had before Natalie, before her kidnapping and his destruction." He knew he'd retreated, at least partially, into the Grissom of old, denying her the one thing she deserved. But the agony of those hours was still as fresh as if they had happened yesterday. He was terrified of opening his heart again.

A fresh surge of anger stormed through his body. "You seem to think this is easy for me. I lost something out there in that desert too, Sara. And I want it back, just like you do!" His right hand came up to cover his mouth, almost as if he could push the words back where they had come from.

Sara watched as the anger drained out of his eyes, leaving nothing but fear and a deep desire for their life before Natalie. Her voice was jagged and filled with pain. "Then take it, Grissom! Just reach out and take it!"

His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. His tongue darted out to wet his lips. "I…I want to. But what if…if I…," his voice trailed off helplessly.

Seeing him waver, Sara thrust her breasts forward and planted her hands on her hips. Throwing her head back, Sara all but dared him to do what he wanted to do. "What, Gil? What could happen?"

Taking a step back, putting some space between them, Grissom murmured, "You could get hurt."

Sara gave a snort that was part laughter, part disgust. "You think _you _can hurt me? I've survived worse than you ever thought about." Grissom's head moved back and forth, his eyes telling her what his lips could not. Realization dawned hot and heavy. Sara finally understood what she had been unable or unwilling to see. "No, Griss. This is not your fault. You can't think it's your fault."

Grissom closed his eyes and drew a deep breath in, his nostrils flaring. When he spoke his voice was a ragged plea. "Please Sara, don't do this." He could feel something in him tearing, crumbling under the weight of her words.

"Look at me." Grissom's eyes slid open and Sara could see the truth he had been trying to hide before his gaze skittered away from her. She reached up and placed a hand on either side of his face. "No! Look! At! Me!"

"I am looking at you, Sara." Grissom's hands grasped her wrists and tugged her hands away from his cheeks. He was a coward of the worst kind. Refusing to meet her gaze was his way of denying the truth in what she was saying. He was afraid…afraid of being hurt, afraid of losing her, afraid of life…and he mourned what he had lost.

The anger bled from her body and sorrow rushed in to take its place. Shaking her head, her lips turning up in a sad smirk, Sara said, "No you're not. And that's the problem."

They stood there in the bright light of the kitchen, the tiles cool under their feet and the air buzzing with emotion. Silence engulfed them. Grissom wanted say something but he didn't know how to begin. Instead, he stood there waiting, willing Sara to tell him what to do to make this right. Wishing he could turn back the clock.

Sara saw the defeat in his eyes and, with a speed Grissom didn't know she possessed, grabbed the bottom of her shirt and pulled it over her head. "Do you see me now? Do you see the scars you're so afraid of?" Her voice broke but she took a deep breath. When she continued her tone was strong and steady. "No more hiding in the dark, Grissom. No more half-assed sex with all the lights off so you can pretend everything's okay. No more!"

Grissom's eyes were drawn to her. The creamy skin dotted with all those luscious freckles, the beautiful breasts with their pebbled nipples, the firm belly, all of them reminded him of what he'd almost lost. She stood before him proudly. Sara saw him wavering, standing on the edge, so she played her last card. Deliberately she hooked her thumbs in the sides of her panties and pushed them down to her knees. The clingy fabric slid over her calves and she kicked them aside. Straightening, she let her hands hang loosely at her sides.

Her voice held only a hint of sadness when she said, "This is it. This is me. I'm right here and it's all or nothing. You decide."

Beautiful...glorious…mere words couldn't do her justice. From the sweet hollow of her throat, down along the curve of her breasts and the plane of her abdomen, past the dark curls between her thighs and lower still to the very tips of her toes, she was glorious. The scars left by her ordeal only served to make her more incredible in his eyes. And her physical beauty was eclipsed only by the beauty of her soul. This woman, his woman, had walked through hell and come out intact on the other side. He didn't deserve what she was offering but he was going to take it before she changed her mind.

His voice rough with longing, Grissom said, "All or nothing?" Sara's chin was tilted at a defiant angle but her eyes were wary. He reached down and lifted his shirt over his head, letting it drop to the floor. "I've seen where nothing lives and I can't survive there." Slowly, deliberately, his eyes never leaving hers, he removed his boxers. "I want it all, Sara."

Sara held his gaze as she took the three steps necessary to bring her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head against his chest. Their quiet sighs of pleasure mingled in the air and Grissom brought his arms up to pull her to him. They stood like that for several long, peaceful moments, neither of them willing to break the embrace. Finally, Sara raised her head and pressed her lips to his.

Pulling back, she whispered against his mouth, "Love me, Grissom. That's all I want. Just love me."

He brought a hand up and ran a finger gently over her cheek. "I do love you, Sara. Never doubt that."

Grissom bent and caught her mouth in a blistering kiss, his tongue tangling with hers in an erotic dance. Her hands moved over his back, caressing every inch of skin she could reach. Slowly, Grissom broke the kiss. He rested his forehead against hers, his breath fanning her face, while desire coursed through his veins.

"Sara, love, I'm…I'm such a fool." His voice was a rough whisper.

She pulled back to look into his eyes. "No. You're not a fool. Never a fool," she slowly shook of her head. "You shouldn't talk that way about the man I love."

A gentle smile lit his face. "I love you, too. So much."

When she would have kissed him, he stepped back and grasped her hand, tugging her along as he made his way to the bedroom. He led her to the bed. "Wait right here. Don't move." Her question was swallowed by a quick press of his lips to hers.

Crossing to the windows, Grissom opened the curtains and adjusted the blinds so that the room was bathed in the soft light of early evening. He turned and saw the tears spilling from Sara's eyes. "No more hiding, Sara," he moved to stand in front of her.

With a sob she reached out and drew him to her. Her arms encircled his neck and pulled him into her kiss. She kissed him thoroughly, taking her time when he would have rushed. Her tongue slid over his, beckoning him in. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and tested it with her teeth. She felt him growing hard, his erection pressing insistently against her thigh. Still she held him there with just her kiss until, with a growl of impatience, Grissom tore his mouth from hers.

He drew a ragged breath deep into his lungs and gestured toward the bed. "Lie down." There was no mistaking the hoarse plea in his voice.

Without a word Sara sprawled across the bed. Grissom took a moment to look at her. His eyes moved over her face and down the long, long length of her. The mattress dipped when he knelt beside her. Leaning forward, Grissom skimmed his lips over every patch of new, pink skin that he could reach. Every place the rough sand had abraded became an object of his devotion, his fleeting affection. His tongue traced the raised line of scar tissue that marked the place where the chest tube had been. He took each of her fingers into his mouth remembering the broken nails and torn skin. He worshipped her imperfections because they were what made her beautiful in his eyes, in his heart. Sara's moans of pleasure trembled on the still air of the room, helping to wash away the memories of her cries from the pain she had suffered. When he had touched every blemish, every mark, he stretched out beside her and kissed the tears from her cheeks.

"Shhhhhhh," he murmured. "Don't cry. Please don't cry."

"These are good tears. Trust me." Sara's smile was tremulous and her eyes dark with desire.

Grissom kissed her then, slow and deep. His hands were everywhere. They cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples into hard peaks. They smoothed over her taut abdomen and he delighted in her shudder of anticipation. When his strong fingers parted her slick folds they both moaned in pleasure. Sara's legs slid open in a silent invitation and he eased two fingers into her wet heat. His thumb found her clit, rubbing in tiny circles, and he drew a strawberry colored nipple into his mouth. Sara was lost. The molten heat of the orgasm pounded through her veins. It had been so long, far too long, and she was surprised at the speed and intensity of her reaction.

She lay still for a moment, relishing the sweet kick of endorphins. A slow, sexy smile spread across her face. Opening her eyes she met his gaze and whispered, "Hey there."

"Hi." Grissom pressed a kiss to her lips, tasting her smile. Slowly, he began to move the fingers that were still buried deep inside her. "How're you feeling?"

Sara's breath hitched when his fingers grazed over a sensitive spot. "Gah…uh…good. I'm feeling good." She licked her lips and grinned up at him.

Nodding, trying to suppress an answering smile, he said, "Me too."

With a laugh Sara pushed him over. His fingers slipped from her body as she straddled him. She began placing quick kisses over his chest, stopping to lick a flat nipple or test the firmness of his muscle with quick nips of her teeth. His hardness was nestled between her thighs. Grissom's hips thrust up, smearing her wetness along his length, nudging against her sensitive clit.

"Sara," he rasped out, "I need to be in you." Placing one last lingering kiss to the spot over his heart, Sara sat up and reached between their bodies. Just before she guided him into her, he stopped her. "Wait."

Sara's eyes flew to his face, fear of rejection running like ice water through her veins. But Grissom simply arranged the pillows behind him so that he was sitting on the bed instead of lying. He reached out and cupped her face, pulling her down for a kiss. "I want to be able to hold you."

The warmth of his words washed over her. Grasping his cock, she stroked it lovingly before guiding it to her entrance. Slowly, steadily, she sank down, relishing the stretch of her muscles around his hard cock. Their moans of delight mingled on the cool air. Sara's hands came to rest on his chest while his found her waist. For a long moment, neither of them moved, taking the time to adjust to the sensations. Then, slowly, her eyes locked on his, Sara began to roll her hips. Front to back, side to side, her supple body moved against him in a dance older than time itself.

Grissom let her set the rhythm. His warm, strong fingers flexed against the taut muscles of her ass as she moved over him. His gaze dropped from her eyes to the place where their bodies were joined. He watched, captivated as she pleasured them both. Sara's hands began to move, sliding over his skin. Out over the breadth of his shoulders and down along him arms, she explored him; his sides, his neck, his chest, tweaking a flat nipple and smiling thoughtfully when his hips jerked in response.

When Grissom's hands slid up her sides and around to cup her breasts, his thumbs stroking her nipples, she shuddered at the contact. Without conscious thought, she raised her arms up and crossed them behind her head, arching her back and pressing into his touch. She groaned as he pinched the already hard peaks. With her head thrown back and her eyes closed, the sunlight slanting across her skin, she resembled a nymph – young, beautiful, ethereal.

One hand meandered down her stomach, drawing swirling patterns over her soft skin. His fingers brushed lower, seeking and finding her engorged clit. He flicked a finger back and forth over her lightly, teasingly. Sara shuddered and ground against him. With his free hand Grissom pulled her tightly against his chest while Sara's fingers tangled in his hair. Tugging gently, she tilted his head back just enough so that she could reach his mouth. In that moment they were joined together body and soul.

Grissom's touch became more direct, his finger rubbing tiny circles over her heated flesh. Her soft grunts of pleasure were muffled by their kiss. Her hips moved frantically, circling and circling while her muscles caressed him.

Grissom pulled his mouth from hers. "Come for me, Sara." His voice trembled with the need for release. "Please, come for me."

Sara could feel her orgasm building. It was molten need sitting low in her belly. It was white hot shards of pleasure radiating down her trembling thighs. She was reaching toward it, desperate, when Grissom bent his head and sucked a nipple into his mouth, teasing it with his teeth. The rasp of his tongue and the sharp nip of his teeth, combined with the feel of his cock inside her and his finger on her clit pushed her over the edge. She was flying, her body weightless in her ecstasy. She could feel Grissom's cock swell before it began pulsing deep within her body. She heard him call her name. She heard him call out to God. And she felt his tears as the trickled over her breast.

Slowly, they came back to the here and now. Neither of them could summon the strength to move. Grissom's arms were around her waist, hers around his shoulders. Where hands had once sought to arouse, they now sought to soothe. Gentle kisses replaced demanding ones. Once open wounds began to heal. Even though they had miles to go to reach shore, at least it was in sight. A sweet sense of peace pervaded the room.

They slid down to nestle among the pillows. Grissom pulled the sheet and blanket up to cover them before drawing Sara into his arms. Her head was on his chest, her thigh thrown over his.

"Are you all right?" he murmured against the silk of her hair.

Already halfway to her first peaceful sleep in months, she mumbled, "Mmmhmm. Love you."

He pressed a kiss against her. "I love you, too."

She yawned, eyes closed, and clung to him. "Thank you."

"For what?"

She was barely able to move her lips, she was so close to dreams. "For saving us."

He felt the rise and fall of her chest against him, the brush of her breath against his neck. The softness of her skin pressed into him was a soothing balm. The smell of her shampoo sweetened the heavy aroma of sex that hung in the air. He felt as if he was drowning in Sara, and he was grateful. Drowning in Sara was the only way he could truly breathe.


End file.
